


Without Words

by PiratePlume



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Being The Elite (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratePlume/pseuds/PiratePlume
Summary: (Takes place following the events from 1/8/20 Dynamite and 1/13/20 BTE) After wrapping up pre-show interviews, Stella discovers that her boyfriend, Hangman Adam Page, isn’t anywhere to be found backstage.  The few people she talks to let her know that, once again, he appeared to be drunk before everyone lost sight of him.  Worried for his well-being, Stella tracks him down and their love deepens when she learns how badly he needed her.
Relationships: Adam Page/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	Without Words

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something for Hangman after my heart was so sad watching this week’s BTE, so I decided we’d revisit a FOC from a prior bte-inspired fic. The FOC of choice is Stella, who was in The Cowboy Hat Stays On. This is purely self-indulgent, but I just... needed it.

“Thanks Jack, that was great!”

“Anytime, Stella,” Jungle Boy smiled that honest, sweet grin he had and nodded before stepping away from the cameras and heading off after Luchasaurus and Marko, waiting in the wings.

“Are we good for the night?” Stella asked, glancing at the man who’d make the call. He nodded with a happy grin.

“Yeah, great stuff as always Stella.”

“Thanks!” Stella grinned and handed the microphone to a waiting PA before stepping off set. She’d always enjoyed being an interviewer, ever since she could remember. Growing up, she used to use her family’s video recorder to tape herself interviewing her stuffed animals and had made journalism her career focus when she attended university. An interview landed her a job in the world of professional wrestling, of which she had **no** experience. 

Stella remembered when she’d called her brother, panicking, and begged him to teach her everything he knew about it. Thankfully he was a fan and he’d done what he could, sending her YouTube video after YouTube video and handling her billions of confused questions that’d come after. He’d even directed her toward his favorite professional wrestling interviewers to give her an idea of what exactly she’d be doing. He’d begged her not to mess it up, but halfway through the interview she’d panicked and confessed that she’d barely begun cramming knowledge about professional wrestling in the two weeks waiting for her interview. The eyes of the company heads were pinned on her and she quickly promised to do everything she could to be the best interviewer they’d have. She’d learn everything she needed to know by the time they were ready for her, even if she had to tape her eyelids open to keep watching and never sleep.

It’d been Nick Jackson who’d broken the silence after her confession, grinning from where he reclined in the chair on the opposite side of the long glass top table. “What the hell? I say we give her a shot.”

Stella smiled, remembering that moment as she took off down the hallways, heels clicking against the ground and echoing on the cement walls on either side of her. By now she’d settled well into her job and was actually enjoying herself, too. _Well of course you are. You’re dating Hangman Adam Page, after all._ Stella bit down on the smile that wanted to spread wide and happy across her face. Friends since she started, it wasn’t until that drunken outburst of his and the subsequent confessing of feelings after that they agreed to start dating.

But lately he was worrying her. Thursday through Monday he was a different man altogether. Happy. Full of laughter. Relaxed. The closer Wednesday drew, the more tense he became. He’d always shrug her touch off if she laid it on his set shoulders and shake his head, blinking as if waking from a daydream when she asked him what was wrong. He’d laugh and assure her it was nothing before leaning in and giving her a sweet, loving kiss. He was believable enough for her not to press any further, but still… it nagged her.

Most Wednesday nights he didn’t meet with her after the show. After she was done with all the post show interviews, Stella would find out he’d already left and said he was going back to his hotel. She’d never thought Adam to be the cheating type, and still didn’t, but the further it went and the worse he seemed to get, the more and more concerned she was. _Something_ was clearly wrong, but she didn’t know what. Was it her? Did he regret their moment of passion and wished they’d just remained friends? If it wasn’t her, why wouldn’t he tell her what was going on? She’d decided she’d talk to him about it that night. She’d get it together, stop being afraid of driving him away and ask him what was going on with him.

She had an idea of what it could be if it _wasn’t_ her…

“Kenny!” She’d just been thinking about him – well, about The Elite - and Adam’s current relationship with them. He turned around and looked momentarily relieved to see her, then glanced around her, noticed she was alone and looked disappointed.

“Hangman isn’t with you?” He asked.

“No… I was hoping you’d have seen him,” she said, worry creeping into her tone.

“Shoot,” he sighed and shook his head, “I was worried about him, I think he was drunk again. I was going to make sure he got an Uber back to the hotel, but I had to wrap up something for the show and I-” he trailed off before his sentence finished and Stella felt a twist of anger in her stomach.

“And you let him go.” She couldn’t help the coldness that slipped into her voice and she didn’t take it back, either. She was too worried about Adam to care about hurting Kenny’s feelings.

“Stella, it wasn’t like that, I-” Kenny started, but Stella interrupted him.

“I don’t have time, Kenny. I need to find Adam and make sure he’s okay.” She turned away before he could say anything else and started walking faster, steady enough to power walk in heels from how often she’d had to wear them. After asking around to no avail, Stella headed for where she’d stored her purse and went for her cellphone, immediately dialing his number. It went straight to voicemail. Her stomach dropped. He **never** turned off his phone…

“Hey baby! I just ran into Kenny and he said he was looking for you? No one can find you or seems to know where you went off to. Where are you at? Call me back.” She hung up the phone and looked at it as the screen faded black. What if all these feelings were just her getting too inside her head and he was perfectly fine? Was she being a _crazy girlfriend_? 

She decided to give him a few minutes to get back to her as she gathered her things and called for an Uber. The only place he could have reasonably gone back to was the hotel, right? She knew the room he was staying in and could at least go knock on his door to make sure he’d gotten back alright. A few of the people she’d asked backstage said he’d been acting a little out of control - like he’d been the night he found her before Christmas… but _different_.

Stella had watched him mingling with the crowd after his match, and though she’d certainly felt flush, watching the beer dribble down his face and splash on his stacked, muscled chest, there’d been that ever-present twinge of worry. Again, she mentally chided herself, maybe she was being too paranoid. Maybe she was reading too much into things and anticipating the worst.

She fidgeted the entire way from the convention center to the (thankfully) nearby hotel and practically ran from the loading area the driver dropped her off at and into the lobby. A few curious eyes pulled her way and she reminded herself to calm down and pace herself. She glanced back down at her phone. No returned call. She tried him again, but once more, the call went straight to voicemail. Stella made for the elevators and pushed the button for his floor, two above the floor her room was on, and waited.

He hadn’t been acting like himself lately. He’d been shrugging it off every time she tried to bring it up, but it’d always left unease in her gut. She figured it was something he was working through and he’d tell her when he was good and ready. She had to give him that amount of trust, at least. But this? Third week in a row he’d all but disappeared, said to be drunk, and this time his phone was off. If he’d at least texted her and let her know he was going to be okay…

The elevator doors swung open and Stella moved out of them in a rush. Her breath was coming in short gasps, but it was because her heart was pounding the closer she got to his door. She stopped in front of his room and steadied herself before raising her fist and knocking.

“Adam? It’s Stella!”

Silence. Stella glanced down either end of the hall and knocked again.

“Adam? Are you in there? I tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”

Silence.

Fuck. If he hadn’t come to the hotel and he hadn’t been at the convention center, where had he gone? Stella glanced around the empty hallway again as if her anxiety would magically manifest him and everything would be okay. He didn’t appear, and Stella was left standing in front of his closed hotel room door, wondering how crazy she’d sound if she asked the person working the lobby desk to give her a key to the room. Maybe he was sleeping? Maybe he’d turned his phone off by accident?

She frowned and looked back at the closed door. Okay. New plan. Stella decided she’d return to her hotel room and try calling his hotel phone a couple times, hoping the ring would wake him up. If that didn’t work – she decided as she got in the elevator and pressed the button for her floor – she’d get ahold of Kenny and see if he’d heard anything. Maybe they’d found Adam somewhere. Maybe they’d be able to get her access to the hotel key card to check his room.

The doors slid open and she stepped onto her floor. Already she was tactically planning who she’d contact to keep this as under-the-rug as possible. The last thing she wanted was to blow the whole thing out of proportion and have one wrong person overhear the ordeal and run wild with it. Adam was a grown man, she reminded herself, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Wherever he was.

She turned the hallway and stopped short. Just a few doors down, in front of her hotel room door, sat a blond, curly-haired cowboy in a grey-and-black flannel long-sleeve, dark-wash jeans and ostrich leather boots. His head was bent, eyes on his hands, which he had lying in his lap, palms up.

“Adam?” Relief in her voice, his name echoed down the stretch of the empty hall as she hurried her steps to get to him faster. Adam’s head shot up and he blinked a few times as if adjusting to the lights overhead. He looked disoriented, as if he didn’t realize where he was.

“Stella?” He asked, looked down the hall behind her and frowned, lifting a wide palm to flatten for support on the doorframe as he shakily got to his feet. His body lurched and swayed, the way it had the night they’d been walking in the park outside to try and help sober him up. Stella’s heart sank.

“Adam… are you okay?” She couldn’t help the way sadness draped itself over her tone.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Knee-jerk, gut reaction. He was so used to brushing everyone’s concern away and wanting to put on an appearance of having everything together – now more than ever since he’d decided to leave The Elite – he said it before he’d thought about it. Adam kept one hand on the doorframe to hold himself upright and glanced down his barrel chest at her.

Heartache in those blue eyes of his. Vulnerability. He **wasn’t** okay. The sight of his sorrow stung her so swiftly, Stella had to suck in a sharp breath, as if all the oxygen had been sapped out of the hotel hallway.

“Adam…” She said gently, stepping to close the few inches of distance between them, and lifted her hand to gently hold his cheek. The short hair of his blond beard scratched her soft palm. Adam leaned his head into her hold and closed his eyes, taking a deep, slow breath. His low brow furrowed. He was trying not to cry, but when he opened his eyes again, Stella could see the soft sheen of tears glossy in his eyes. “Oh, Adam,” she said again, and slipped her hand from his face to instead wrap them around his soft, yet firm midsection. Stella pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, and held onto him a little tighter than necessary.

Adam’s large arms wrapped around her and pulled her in just as close, his head bent, and his face buried in her wavy, dark hair. His breaths were low and warm against her neck. He breathed a shaky breath that she felt the tremor through his whole body.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Stella whispered, fighting the emotion swelling inside her and the way it tightened her voice and made her eyes burn with tears. “I’m here.” His arms tightened more. “I’ve got you.”

Adam’s wide back, which Stella gently rubbed her hand up and down in a comforting, calming way, shook beneath her touch. With his face hidden in her hair, with her arms wrapped around him, he let go. His tears were wet against her skin, dampening the neckline of her dress.

“Fuck,” he whispered and gasped, and held tight to her still as he cried.

The tears that’d waited in her eyes slipped over her cheeks, but Stella remained steadfast, holding him, comforting him, whispering gentle, sweet words of love and affection. Whatever he needed in this moment, she was there. She would be his light when everything else around him seemed so, so dark. She was his strength.

“I’m sorry Stella, I-” he started to say in a rough, emotion-raw voice as he finally slipped his arms away from around her and reached to wipe the tears almost angrily from his eyes.

“No, **no** ,” she started almost immediately and grabbed his hands, pulling them away from his face. Her fingers curled and squeezed tight around them. Adam’s eyes refilled almost immediately with tears, the edges lined red. And oh, how her heart broke to see him sad. She’d always teased him about having the perfect puppy-dog face with the soft, natural down-turn of his brows, but looking at her now his face was twisted in an expression of anguish and it made a sight she hoped she never had to see. He should be bright with smiles, always. Those sort of smiles he had that ate up his whole face and pushed his round cheeks into his eyes, making the edges wrinkle.

“Baby, it’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.” Her voice gently reprimanded his feelings of shame for breaking down in front of her. “Come on,” she let one hand go, but kept a tight hold of the other. “Let’s go in my room.”

The last thing he needed was someone from the company coming back to their rooms and catching sight of him drunk and in tears. Quickly, Stella reached into her purse for her keycard, swiped and opened the door. She went in first, Adam close behind, the hold of their hands not breaking until the door closed with a steady click behind them. She looked over at him and gave him a small, kind smile as she kicked off her heels and reached for his hand again.

“Stella, I’m sorry, I don’t even know how I got here… I didn’t mean to ruin your night I just-” He tried to start again, voice a deep, pitiful mumble as he fought through high emotion and the haze of drunkenness to get a grasp on himself.

“Adam, stop.” Her voice was a little firmer this time and it made him blink in surprise at her. “Come here,” she added more gently, tugging his hand and leading him toward the hotel bed. Their grasp broke again so Stella could climb onto the bed, putting her back against the headboard and sitting upright. Adam tilted his head and a frown gently pinched his brow. She smiled and gently patted her lap. “Lay your weary head down, cowboy.”

Barely a turn of a smile at the corner of his lips, but it was something. He shifted to lean his weight onto the bed.

“Ah- wait!”

He froze and blinked at her as she arched a brow and eyed his feet.

“No boots on the bed, you know the rule.”

This time he did smile and even though it was brief, it was enough to lift the heavy weight seeing him in tears had laid across her heart. Stella adjusted herself as Adam crawled onto the bed – boots off – and laid himself down, placing his head in her lap. His forehead wrinkled as he raised his brows and looked up at her. Gently, Stella began to rake her fingers through his soft mane of blond curls, massaging his scalp as she did. He made a soft noise and closed his eyes, sighing out a long, low breath. For a minute that’s all it was, just Adam laying with his head in her lap, eyes closed, and Stella gently brushing her fingers through his hair. She didn’t press him to talk and didn’t care to, either. This was for **_him_**. They could have gone on like this all night as far as she was concerned.

His chest rose as he took in a deep breath and deflated as he slowly released it. His eyelids blinked open and he looked up at her again. No tears in his eyes this time, but the evidence of what he’d already cried remained. Stella could see the gentle shimmer on his skin as it caught the hotel lights. She carefully wiped their trails away and smiled a small, reassuring smile down at him. Adam reached to catch her hand before she could return to gently brushing his hair. He pulled her down as he lifted to meet her in a soft, quick kiss before he released her and settled back in her lap.

It was quiet for a little longer as Stella returned to playing with his hair.

“I talked to Jimmy for a bit after the show,” he started, and Stella could tell he was trying to work through what’d brought him to her hotel room door and left him to tears. He’d been excited to see his old wrestling coach the minute they’d announced he’d be a part of it. “He told me…” his voice tightened, and he cleared his throat. “He told me I – uh –” a deep breath that seemed to shake in his lungs, “he told me I have a lot to be running towards.”

“He’s right,” Stella said, but her voice was soft. She knew better than to force him into the realization everyone who truly cared about him could see. He had so much potential laid out in front of him and he was so much better than he gave himself credit for. The more the crowd swelled in volume the moment they saw him, or when he moved around the ring preforming his heart out, the more his confidence grew. It just needed to be strong enough to push the voice of doubt that had remained ever steadfast in his mind, ready to poison any victory he had and tell him it still wasn’t enough. Stella believed in him, believed he’d get there…

But he needed to believe in **himself** , first.

Adam made a noise in his throat to avoid outright agreeing or disagreeing with her.

“Hey, look at me,” she beckoned, bringing those sad blue eyes her way. “You are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, you know that?” Stella didn’t let him pull away from her compliment, her hands gently framing that handsome face that made her heart skip when she saw it. “You have **so much** to offer. Everyone can see it Adam, but **_you_** need to see it too.”

The vision of him blurred as tears suddenly rose in her eyes. She cared for him so much, that the emotions were too strong to control completely. Stella tried to blink them away and cleared her throat. It was too early in their romantic relationship to say those three little words, but she knew she felt them. She loved Adam, and she’d already loved him as a friend, but this new venture of theirs together was filled to a depth like she’d never known.

“I’m going to be here every step of the way beside you, and I’m going to be here to remind you how amazing you are, and that when tens of thousands of people are shaking the convention center chanting ‘cowboy shit’, they’re doing that because of **you** and because they support you. Because _you_ won them over and you **keep** winning them over. You have so much potential, Adam, but you can’t seem to see it.” She gently brushed a strand of his blond hair and tucked it behind his ear. “I believe in you and I’m not going to stop complimenting you until you believe in yourself, too. Your coach saw it tonight. Everyone sees it every night. You’re destined for something _great_ , Adam. But you have to believe it for yourself… or this self-doubt is going to eat you alive.”

Stella had a feeling it already was. And she was quickly realizing he was feeling alone, isolated by the worries circling in his head. She needed him to know he was there. She needed him to know he wasn’t alone and he was **never** going to be.

Adam took a low breath and lifted himself up on the bed, out of her lap. He cheated his body to face her, and those large, calloused palms lifted to gently cradle her cheeks. The bed sank against the weight he pressed into his knees, rolling her body into his as his mouth crashed hard and needy against hers. They kissed until they were breathless, chests heaving when they pulled apart with a loud smack. Adam’s breath washed across her face and he held her, blue eyes on hers. His thumb gently skimmed her cheek.

Emotion was a raw, open wound exposed between them. His insecurities on display and more that hadn’t quite been said, but they both knew. He was so desperate for family, so ready to blame himself for any shortcomings, that he wasn’t letting himself believe it was The Elite who’d wronged him versus his own losses. But stepping from their shadow turned more and more eyes on him, and the crowd rallied. The crowd loved **Hangman**.

The silence stretched softly between them.

“Could you… maybe hold me a little longer?” He asked, his voice small, but the vulnerable need clear as day across his face. She knew it wasn’t an easy thing to ask, or an easy place to be. The trust in her he showed in that moment lifted her heart, but the fact that he needed it – just to be held – made her determined to do everything she could to constantly remind him how loved he was, and how important he was to those around him. Briefly, she was angry at anyone who’d ever made him doubt his worth.

“Of course, baby,” Stella sighed with gentle relief, and they situated themselves on the bed so she could wrap her arms around him, gently and comfortingly running her hands along his body, showing him all the love she had for him without ever saying the words.


End file.
